


Soul Free

by Zhie



Series: Freedom! [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bunniverse, Candles, Figging, Gender Identity, Gift Giving, I think I do better selecting tags than writing summaries., Love Letters, Masturbation, Multi, Scent Kink, Scents & Smells, Self-Bondage, Sex Toys, Surprises, Very Helpful Librarian Companions, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 06:06:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9478817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: Glorfindel learns to love the most important person in his life -- himself.





	1. Sweet Temptation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nimlock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nimlock/gifts).



It was late when Glorfindel woke. He hazily recalled chatter in the room while Erestor gathered his clothing and forced Fingon to get out of bed the sixth time Erestor bothered him to ‘rise and shine’, which was accompanied by playful hair ruffling and finally a scolding of “You need to get up now or you can walk to work.”. That was hours ago. Now it was late morning, almost too late for breakfast, but too early for lunch. Glorfindel rolled over in bed and saw the peels of an orange on the nightstand. Another small orange sat untouched beside the refuse. Either someone ran out of time to eat, or they thought to leave a little something for him before they left, but forgot about the peels. No matter the reason, Glorfindel was thankful to be able to eat before he returned to lazing once again.

Two days ago, his immediate reaction upon waking would likely have been to take a bath, or at least wash his hair. He would have lathered and scrubbed the golden waves that were now scrunched together in a box with the majority of seventy-one or seventy-two (he had lost count) gold adorned braids. The box itself was in a shallow grave and under some rocks. They had all promised to dig a deeper hole when the ground was softer and the weather warmer. For now, the little mound behind the pines was the reminder of what Fingon had taken to calling ‘that thing we did’.

Glorfindel ran a hand through what was left and pushed the fringe in front that hung over his eyes aside. After he eat the orange, last of the provisions that would be sent from the mainland until the ice thawed in the spring, he licked his fingers, and then stretched and bent his arms to rub his shoulders. It was an odd sensation to feel skin without the impediment of all the hair he was used to. There were countless mornings when he snagged it on the bed frame or tangled a hand in it. For now, it tucked neatly behind his ears - except if he bowed his head forward, and then some of it swept over his eyes. He pushed it back again and flopped down onto the mattress.

His movements must have jostled a pillow, because a moment later he took in the spicy, exotic scent that lingered on the part of the bed where Fingon slept. That reminded him of the gift that was given to him the night before, when Fingon and Erestor returned home for the day. It was a basket with a cloth over the contents, and all Fingon told him was “Open this tomorrow”. 

It was not specified whether tomorrow should be alone or with his companions. Glorfindel decided he could always peek, and if he was meant to wait, then he would tuck the cloth back over things and act surprised in a few hours. He retrieved the basket from the desk in the corner and sat down on the bed with it beside him. When he removed the cloth, there was another cloth beneath, and a note atop of that. It was violet colored paper, which Glorfindel recognized from the desk where Fingon often sat to correspond to family, friends, and random fans who recalled him as an athlete, king, or both. It was sweetly scented, though he could not place exactly what was in the perfume that wafted toward him. Glorfindel picked up the note and reached to the nightstand for his glasses. Once perched on his nose, he read.

__

Dearest Glorfindel,

We spent a long while discussing your personal trials and grief on our ride in. We hope this gift is not ill-received. We want you to feel loved and cherished again, as you are by both of us, but we also think that you need time first to gain the love and respect again from someone very important in your life -- you. We found a few things that we thought might do just that. We hope you have a wonderful, relaxing day today and will see you very soon.

Love, 

Findekano & E.

There were also several hearts drawn on the bottom of the note, no doubt courtesy of Fingon. Glorfindel set the note aside and removed the second cloth. He laughed. He blushed. He shook his head a little. There was another note, and this one was much shorter.

__

Even I enjoy a good romp with myself, darling. No shame, no regrets, just good dirty fun. -Kano

The signature meant more to him than anything that might be in the basket. Before he and Faelion left, and following his return without him, Glorfindel and Fingon had occasion to banter on which of them was the ‘true’ Fin -- a nickname each of them had adopted, with Fingon making the case that he had been Fin before Glorfindel was born, and Glorfindel arguing that while no songs were ever sung that referred to Fingon in the shortened form, many a book, ballad, and poem used the three-letter name to refer to the balrog slayer (though he bit his tongue before suggesting they determine it by comparing who killed more balrogs and leave the winner to take the title). Glorfindel bit his lip to stifle his grin, and looked shyly around even though he was certainly the only one home. It may have seemed a small tribute to some, but it meant, in that moment, so very much to Glorfindel. It was the acceptance he felt he would never deserve, and yet hoped for. Glorfindel read the note again, and placed it aside so that he could close the door before he looked further at what was in the basket.

The most obvious items were the bottle of wine - his favorite kind - and three distinctly phallic items made of metal. One was long and straight, and perfectly smooth -- by far the largest of the three, and the heaviest of them. The second was more artfully designed. It curved in and out, with small evenly spaced bumps all over it that made Glorfindel shiver when he ran his fingers along the cool surface. The third was shorter than the others, but wider, and it flared out so that it could be lodged in and potentially left in during more vigorous activities. All three had thin, sturdy strands of hithlain attached to their bases, no doubt as a measure of safety.

Already, Glorfindel’s left hand wandered along his thigh. He dug through the basket with his right, and pulled out jasmine scented candles, strawberry massage oil, and something made of leather that he held up and tried to figure out. He put it aside and found a box of chocolates, as well as a jar of sweet smelling lotion that had notes in it that reminded him of the scented note. There was also an item that at first glance, looked like a cat toy. Glorfindel studied it, with feathers at one end of a velvet-covered stick, and a leather tassel at the other. He set this aside and looked into the bottom of the basket.

There was some ginger wrapped in cloth, which Glorfindel set back into the basket. There was also a blindfold which Glorfindel left there. Finally, the there were some clean cloths, and another note, this one from Erestor.

__

You are sexy. You are beautiful. I will always love you. -Ress

Glorfindel set all three notes on the nightstand before he put most of the items back into the basket. He picked up the leather thing again and turned it about to try to figure out the purpose. It was when he noticed a small, purposely placed hole in one piece that he figured it out. He held it up in the manner that made the most sense then - it was meant to keep one of the three phalluses in place. The hithlain threaded through the hole, so that which it was did not slide completely inside - and if it did, was retrievable. There was only one way to discover if his theory was sound. Glorfindel shuddered at this thought, but already he was hard, and he examined the three options. 

The longest one seemed too ordinary, while the oddly shaped one may have been too intense to start. He placed these in the basket and found the oil. Once more, he looked around, and then settled back onto the mattress. He stretched his legs out, and then smelled the oil before he poured a little onto his fingers.

Glorfindel brought his knees up and reached down to tease himself, his head resting to the side, eyes closed. He hummed his pleasure, uncaring what he sounded like, performing for no one, intent upon pleasing only himself. He groaned a little as he felt the cool cloth of the pillow against the skin of his neck, and reached up with the intention of fondling his throat and ears, but soon he was running his fingers through his short hair, finding it sensual and somewhat forbidden to have done what he did.

He paused a moment to readjust his position on the bed. Glorfindel picked up the leather piece, not sure whether it was meant to be a belt or a harness. “Does it matter?” he asked himself as he unbuckled it and lifted his hips to position it around his waist. He left the rest loose while he patted around the bed until he found the short phallus. It was cool at first, but the more he rubbed it with the oil, the warmer it became. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths before he bent his knees again and traced the tip of the toy along his cleft.

The fire from the night before had died, and the windows were drafty even with the curtains drawn. Glorfindel shivered, but kept the blanket off, enjoying the sensation on his bare skin. He slid the phallus up and down a few more times before he added oil and then tested it with a gentle push. Glorfindel hissed and relaxed, and worked the tip in and out, a little deeper, a little more, further still, until he finally slid it entirely in with a satisfied groan. He took hold of the hithlain, and with shaky fingers, managed to thread it through the leather. After the straps were drawn up, he buckled them in place. He left it a little loose at first, and even stood up and took a pace and a half, but when the phallus began to slide out, he tightened the straps so that the leather pressed into his skin, and the phallus stayed firmly and deeply lodged. 

Glorfindel sat back down on the edge of the bed, which served to make him feel even fuller from the pressure. He happened to look across the room, where a floor length mirror was attached to the wall. It was the first really good look he had of himself from faraway since he evening he made the decision to chop off his long golden locks. He turned his head to the side to get a different view, and then looked straight on again. It was so different from how he perceived himself, it was as if he was a different person - or looking at a different person looking at him.

He stared across the room at the stranger he saw reflected there, and took hold of his erection. The harness was constructed so that it left the wearer’s penis free (should they have one - and should they not, it then gave precise access to whatever was between their legs). This made the sensations even better as Glorfindel slid his hand up and down. He stopped once he was rock hard, and covered his hands in the oil again, but now he reached up to touch his neck, chest, and face -- and to run his hands through his cropped hair, to curl his fingers against his scalp and feel it tingle -- all the while, staring at the reflection in the mirror.

He rolled his hips forward and back, and the phallus tilted opposite inside him. It had been decades since he and Erestor had shared a sexual encounter without Faelion involved. Fingon’s words two days prior made promise that it was something, should Erestor consent, that could happen once more. Glorfindel closed his eyes and recalled a time early in his relationship with Erestor when he had Erestor up against a wall following the reading of some very suggestive poetry. He groaned, his muscles moved faster, his fist grasped firmly, and now in the scene in his head he imagined what it would be like to replay it -- but with Fingon now involved. He was between the pair, Erestor shoved to the wall, and Fingon behind Glorfindel, movements slow and purposeful, a single finger drawn down his back from the base of his neck, all the way down...

Warm fluid splashed onto Glorfindel’s belly, and he reached one hand down to finish the job with a few subdued grunts. Once spent, he found one of the cloths in the basket and cleaned up. He thought to remove the phallus, but instead, he crawled under the covers again once he was suitable cleaned up, and fell asleep clutching a pillow that was not his, harness and all.


	2. We See Things Differently

It was difficult to know how much time had passed when Glorfindel awoke. The need to urinate was only slightly less pressing than the need to remove the phallus - neither of which he was currently successful with at the moment. Oil had dripped onto the buckles of the harness, and in his half-conscious state, he had difficulty with them. He managed to release one of the buckles, and contorted to get half of the harness off, which allowed him to unbuckle the other side now that it was loose. He could see marks on his skin from the leather, and wondered the time, and whether they would diminish before his companions returned, or if the thoughtfulness of their gift would still be visual when they arrived home.

Glorfindel began to worry when the phallus did not slide out right away, as he was accustomed to. He reached for and found the hithlain, but a gentle tug caused him to hiss and clench, which only made it worse. He cursed that he forgot to relubricate his passage before he fell asleep, and sought to find the oil from the basket. There was still a need to relieve himself, and he finally scrambled to get to the chamberpot before he took up the search again.

The oil was nowhere to be found, and he hobbled to the dresser on the other side of the room. Exactly where he expected it to be, he found vials tucked under Erestor’s clothing in the top drawer, and thanked Eru that he still remembered where some things were kept (then momentarily wondered if he should really alert Eru to the activities his youngest ‘grandchild’ was engaging in, or at the very least, encouraging). Back to the bed he went, and after executing a tricky position that would allow him to try to work oil in around the phallus, he slowly eased it in and out to distribute the oil before he was able to dislodge it with the least amount of pain. Glorfindel let out a relieved groan once it was removed, and decided to clean it immediately. 

It eventually rejoined the other items in the basket, which he was now pawing through. Removing the phallus had not come without stimulation, and he was certain he still had an hour or two before anyone would arrive home. One of the items intrigued him. It was something he had heard about, but never had he tried it with any of his partners, past or present. He took the ginger root in hand and looked it over. He had heard stories to varying degrees, from ‘gentle warmth’ to ‘asses on fire’. He sniffed at it. It seemed relatively harmless. Then again, neither Fingon nor Erestor ‘seemed’ likely to be the types for adventure in the bedroom, and yet he knew that Erestor was, and if Fingon had a hand in finding the items in the basket, Glorfindel had no problem making assumptions. 

Still, it was just ginger. He had cooked with it numerous times. It made a lovely tea. How bad could it be?

Glorfindel took the ginger and a blanket with him to the first floor. Now that he thought about it, he probably should have washed the phallus before he inserted it. He decided not to make the same mistake with the ginger, and gave it a good scrub in the wash basin in the kitchen. Next, he cut one of the fingers off with a paring knife. The golden flesh inside had a strong scent to it. He scraped off some of the rough parts with the knife before he went to one of the chairs and tossed the blanket over it.

With one foot on the chair, he bent a little at the waist and reached around to tease himself with the root. It was nowhere near the size of the phallus, so he kept firm hold of it and only inserted it a little. The initial sensation was disappointing - it was cool, and a little odd from the unevenness, not to mention there was a lack of stimulation due to the size and how he had spread himself with the phallus earlier.

After a few minutes, he removed it. There was only a slight tingle, and he felt disappointed. He took the root back to the basin and washed it again, then cut off of the end he had inserted and went back to the chair. 

He sat down and clenched his muscles a little, expecting to feel something more. Other than the slight tingle, there was nothing. He relaxed and spread his legs, and on a whim, drew the ginger along his penis, hoping to stimulate it. It stayed flaccid, and once again he seemed to feel nothing. 

He sighed and was about to toss the ginger into the trash bin, but held back. There was one other thing he could try, but he was uncertain. He was still unused to it, still found it slightly unsettling at times. Glorfindel slid the root along the underside of his penis, and let his hand slip further down, to the underdeveloped folds of skin hidden underneath. He was still uncomfortable putting anything within, and every time Faelion entered him in this manner it had been painful and ended in tears, shouting, or their marriage - but stimulation on the outside was nice sometimes. He ran the root, still cool, along the edges, and closed his eyes as he felt his senses awaken, and once more, he was erect. He reached down with his other hand to roll the skin back on one side, and the other, and teased with the ginger. His erection grew harder, and he gasped and moaned, and embraced the unusual ecstasy.

This only lasted a few minutes. It was not a sudden change, but it was also not as gradual as he expected it to be. He opened his eyes and withdrew the ginger, and felt discomfort. It was inside, where he had first used it, and now he tossed the ginger toward the refuse bin and gripped the side of the chair as he felt an extreme warmth that did begin to feel like fire. He squirmed on the chair and considered how long he could withstand it, when the realization hit him that in a few short minutes, he would feel the same thing in the front as he did in the back, and the chair was knocked over as he hurried to the washroom.

The intensity grew, and he fumbled to find soap, then panicked when he tried to think if it would be alright to use soap and to what extent he could do so on genitalia he was not yet familiar with. He whimpered and did it anyhow as the waves of heated anguish hit him. Rubbing with soap only seemed to encourage the fake fire, and he splashed water to wash off the soap, which created puddles on the floor.

This particular washroom had a raised u-shaped stool which could be placed over the chamberpot, intended to allow slightly more dignity for ladies who used the room. Glorfindel felt himself swoon a bit as he retrieved it from the closet, and he sat down upon it, but faced the wall as he set it backwards over the chamberpot. He tried in vain to urinate in the hope that it would somehow help to cleanse the areas that was affecting him, but to no avail. He gripped the towel bar for support and started to cry in frustration and pain.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought he heard the door open. This was confirmed several minutes later, when Fingon knocked on the ajar door to the washroom and then peeked in. “Wha--- Glorfindel, what happened?” he demanded. Erestor entered a moment later, with the leftover ginger that was in the kitchen in his hand. “Oh. Oh boy. Glorfindel, what did you do with it?” Fingon asked gently, and through tears, Glorfindel hiccuped an explanation, including his secret revelation, which he trembled and blushed through. Fingon calmly listened, and did not look a bit surprised as Glorfindel used the phrase ‘burning vagina’ with shame in his eyes. Erestor, on the other hand, looked positively pissed -- though his anger most certainly was not directed at Glorfindel.

“Alright. Here. Stand up and turn around. Sit down again. There you go. Erestor, I need something small, like a cup or a bowl, and I need you to run and get an empty chamberpot and another pitcher of cold water immediately.” Fingon was handed a cup from the cabinet a moment later, and he poured water from the pitcher into it before he knelt down and used it to pour water over Glorfindel, pouring it just behind the base of his penis, and letting it run down into the chamberpot below. “Tell me if it is better, worse, or stays the same,” insisted Fingon as he continued.

After five cups of water the pitcher was nearly empty, but Glorfindel had calmed considerably and mumbled that it did not burn so much. Fingon stood up and washed his hands with the water that remained, and Erestor arrived with another pitcher. “Can you change the chamberpot without disturbing Glorfindel? I would, but I just washed up.” Erestor nodded and performed the task quickly, and disappeared through the door with the nearly full chamberpot.

Fingon brought the pitcher to the floor and knelt down again in front of Glorfindel. “With your permission, I am going to try to get more of the oil out. I think you will feel immense relief much faster if I do. I just wanted to let you know first, before I do it. Is that alright?” Glorfindel nodded and sniffled, and Fingon poured water into the cup. With one hand, he lifted up Glorfindel’s penis, and with the other, he poured the water directly over the folds of skin beneath. Glorfindel let out a relieved sigh, and Fingon repeated the process several more times. “I cannot do much for your anal passage,” said Fingon as he continued to bathe what he could. “If I try, I will probably push the oil further up, and it will just make it worse.”

“That is already starting to subside. I think it was much worse… in the… front there,” said Glorfindel, and he could feel that even his nose was red..

Fingon nodded and continued his work until he had used up the water in the second pitcher. “I can keep going,” he offered when Erestor switched the empty pitcher for another full one. 

Glorfindel shook his head. “It feels a little… off, but not like it did. It was really fucking intense, and not in a way I want to feel again,” he said.

“You know, I had second thoughts about it. I picked it up when I bought the wine, because I felt like I was contributing so little to what was going into the basket and I should put in at least one thing that was not food. Well, technically, it still is food,” he said. “I tried.”

Glorfindel started to squirm again, and Fingon returned to his task. This water was from outside, and was much colder. It made Glorfindel shiver, but it also allowed him to relax and finally find relief. “The basket was mostly Erestor, then?” wondered Glorfindel. Small talk about sex toys seemed preferable to any further discussion of his unusual anatomy.

“If you could put it in your mouth, then it was--” Fingon paused, obviously considering his word choice. “If it was edible, it was-- Erestor!” he called out, and was answered with a faint, “What?”. “Erestor, is the oil edible?”

There was no immediate answer, but Erestor came to the door and peeked in. “Yes, but not really something meant for… do not drink it,” he settled on. “But, yes, if you ingest a little, it will not hurt anything. It was the strawberry flavored one I think. They had lemon, too, but that one smelled too strong and I worried that it would actually sting.”

“Alright, well, the wine, the chocolate, and the ginger were my contributions,” Fingon finally said.

“The basket idea itself was Fingon’s idea,” said Erestor. “He had a number of other suggestions, but we were limited on what we could do in a short time.” He had with him a large, fluffy towel, and he and Fingon coaxed Glorfindel to stand now that he was not writhing in discomfort. Erestor wrapped the towel around Glorfindel and tucked it to keep it from falling off. “We almost stayed home with you today, but… well, we can talk about work later.”

“You both did pretty well for an impulsive gift,” commended Glorfindel. “I just need a masturbation mentor here to make sure I do not hurt myself,” he joked, and he related his earlier experience to them.

“I suppose some things are safer with someone else around,” said Fingon as he helped Glorfindel dry off. Erestor retrieved a clean robe for Glorfindel, and soon the three were in the great room together. 

“Bondage is certainly safer with a partner,” said Erestor once they were settled in. 

Fingon had already distributed glasses of sweet cherry wine to his companions, and was mid-pour with his own glass when the words tumbled out of Erestor’s mouth. “I am too curious not to ask what prompted that comment,” said Fingon.

“I just realized I should not have made that comment out loud,” Erestor muttered.

Glorfindel chuckled. “The trouble is, even if you can tie yourself up without someone - then what?”

“Exactly,” agreed Erestor.

Fingon looked intrigued as he finished pouring wine into his glass. “Well… there has to be a way to make it work,” reasoned Fingon.

Erestor sipped the deep red liquid. “To make what work?” 

“Self-bondage and masturbation.” Fingon studied Erestor, who raised his brows and waited patiently for Fingon’s suggestions. “Mmmhmm. I know how,” he said, but he sipped his wine rather than share his thoughts.

“That set of phalluses and the… harness-thing, that is a form of bondage,” said Glorfindel.

“Ah, yes,” said Fingon. He ran his hand through his cropped hair before he rested against the cushions of the chair he was sitting in. “So, two ways for you, Erestor.”

Erestor blushed slightly and swirled his wine. “Those are for Glorfindel, though.”

“And I am sure he is willing to share with you. Or, we could go back and purchase one of the double-ended ones that intrigued you so,” Fingon suggested. Erestor shook his head and blushed deeper.

“Where did you find such things, anyhow?” asked Glorfindel. “I rather doubt anyone has a sign over their door telling you to enter for pleasure.”

“They did in Breeland,” recalled Erestor.

“I am rather disappointed to have missed Breeland,” remarked Fingon. He refilled Glorfindel’s glass and his own. Erestor once again drank very slowly and carefully, and appeared to have a nearly full glass. “As to your inquiry, Glorfindel, there is a shop that specializes in a variety of crafts. We were merely there to see if there was anything which could double as a sexual aid. The proprietor figured things out quite quickly, closed the shop, and directed us to his wife’s workshop on the third floor. She had a number of interesting things for sale, and works with leather, cloth, fur, metals, gems, glass, and probably a half-dozen other materials.”

“She took us to the basement where the inventory is kept,” interrupted Erestor. “We found what we were looking for there.”

“And you are going to skip the whole part where she talked to you about the years the two of you lived together in Mirkwood, and when the two of you had a glass of brandy, and when you asked her what she suggested and she said you would have to ask her husband because he was the reason she started to make them in the first place?” prodded Fingon.

Erestor scowled. Glorfindel turned his head and leaned over to poke at Erestor’s shoulder. “Who is it?” hissed Glorfindel. Erestor shook his head. “Can I guess?”

“You know, I never actually got her name. She just turned away from her work, shouted ‘Erestor!’, and they hugged and she punched his shoulder and then they were laughing and drinking and I was just hearing things about spiders and dwarves and that sort of nonsense,” said Fingon. “Red-head, nice figure, cute nose, big smile,” he added.

“OH!” Glorfindel sat back and snapped his fingers. “I know who it is. I had no idea she was here!”

“You knew she sailed,” said Erestor. “We went to see that ship off.”

“I knew that -- I never knew where she ended up.” Glorfindel nodded. “Good for her.”

“And good for us. We have a willing supplier, whose name I do not know and hardly honestly care about right at this moment, because I need to see if we have candles,” said Fingon as he set his glass down beside the bottle of wine and went to a cabinet of various essentials.

“Of course we have candles,” Erestor said. “We actually have a lot of candles,” he said as he turned his attention back to Glorfindel. “When we started to clear the attic, we found so many boxes of candles -- and lanterns. Mostly candles. Cottage of lost candles.”

“They need to be a certain size,” said Fingon as he closed the cabinet. “I think there are some up in my room.” He passed by the wine and picked up the bottle and his glass without stopping. “Come,” he commanded as he continued out of the room to the stairway.

Glorfindel looked at Erestor. “Does he mean you, or me? Or both of us?”

“Mostly Erestor,” called out Fingon as he made his ascent, “but you should come, too, if you want to watch him masturbate.”

Erestor and Glorfindel continued to look at each other in silence for a moment before Erestor said, “Do you see what I have had to put up with since you left?”

“I get the impression you enjoy it,” answered Glorfindel. Erestor lifted his brow in askance, and Glorfindel gave a cough and looked down at Erestor’s lap.

“Hmm… how did that happen?” Erestor’s voice was low and lazy. 

Fingon’s however, was loud and insistent as he called down the stairway. “I found the candles!”

“I suppose I should not keep him waiting. No telling what else he will think of if I do.” Erestor stood up, wine glass abandoned. Glorfindel did not move. “Are you coming?”

Glorfindel tilted his glass back and forth thoughtfully. “Did you… want me to come…?”

Erestor crouched down and leaned in to kiss Glorfindel’s cheek. Into his ear he whispered, “I always want you… to come… with me.” He kissed behind Glorfindel’s ear and nuzzled his neck. Fingon called for him again, and Erestor lightly kissed Glorfindel’s lips before he patted his thigh and left the room.

“Hmm.” Glorfindel looked down at his own lap. “Shall we?” he asked the bulge that tented his robe. It twitched, and he downed the rest of his wine before he made his way to the stairs.


End file.
